


Homeless

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-04
Updated: 2007-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn't believe Snape is dead, but with no idea how to find him, he simply drifts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bewarethesmirk](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bewarethesmirk).



Now that it was all over, Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He'd done what the prophecy had predicted, what Dumbledore had intended for him, but somehow it wasn't enough. He spent hours thinking about all those who'd died fighting – friends like Fred and Colin, people he'd looked up to like Moody and Tonks and Lupin, even enemies like Crabbe – and regretted the necessity of each death.

One person didn't fit into any of those categories. Snape couldn't be alive; Harry had seen the blood pouring from his throat, seen his eyes glazed in death. Yet no one had found the body. No portrait had magically appeared in the Headmistress' rooms as had happened when Dumbledore had died. Professor McGonagall said that it was because Snape had abandoned his role before his death, but Harry wasn't so sure.

He went back to find the Resurrection Stone in the forest, summoning it with an _Accio_ , but it would not show him Snape. Perhaps the man was simply as stubborn in death as in life, and refused to come to Harry, but he wouldn't accept that. If Snape was alive, Harry was determined to find him. He just had no idea how to do it.

Although it seemed pointless, he returned to Hogwarts for a final year. There was comfort in the routine of school, after all, and in being close to Hermione and Ron, even if they were closer to each other. After several fallings-out, Ginny gave him space. She said she understood, that she would wait for him if he wanted, and Harry nodded, too tired to argue further. He studied for his N.E.W.T.s because Hermione pestered him to do so, surprised when he ended up earning all seven that he attempted.

He didn't go into Auror training straight away, though he couldn't explain why to Ron. Instead he traveled, as Dumbledore had once planned to do. He went to Egypt and saw Bill, back there with Fleur for a two-year stint. From China he sent rare plants back to Neville, now doing a special apprenticeship with Professor Sprout after earning an Outstanding N.E.W.T. in Herbology. In the United States he watched several professional Quodpot games and decided that Quidditch was a vastly superior sport. Finally, he returned to Europe and spent some time in Italy, keeping to the wizarding haunts in Venice and Florence and Rome, letting the days drift by.

It was his twenty-first birthday, and Harry thought perhaps he should do something to mark it; buy some trinket, or perhaps something that he might use as an Auror if he ever went back and trained properly. He went down to the market. By now he knew enough Italian to get by, and in any case Hermione had sent him instructions for a good Translation Charm if he needed it.

The shops were crowded as usual. Harry didn't mind. He was less likely to be recognized that way, and he still was shy of publicity. He browsed through several; since he didn't have anything particular in mind, it was difficult to choose. Twice he saw someone duck out of sight when he passed, but he didn't pay attention. The third time, though, he realized that there was something familiar about the figure.

Casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, Harry followed. It was a wizard, no question, but who would he recognize in Rome? Even with the charm it took him nearly twenty minutes to get close enough to see under the drawn-up hood. It couldn't be – surely it wasn't Snape? Yet there was no mistaking the beaky nose, and when Harry heard him speak to a shopkeeper, the rumbling voice was equally unequivocal, even in Italian.

Harry considered. If Snape were here, in hiding or at least trying to remain unknown, perhaps he should let the man be. And yet – he owed Snape so much. Without the memories Snape had given him, he could not have done what he did. In the end, he sent an owl, hoping that his message would reach the proper recipient. Then he waited, sipping espresso outside a café, until, three days later, a black-robed figure sank into the chair opposite and greeted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bewarethesmirk, at the request of lesyeuxverts00, who suggested Snarry, prompt "travel."


End file.
